Remember The Thirty-Two
It's been one year.
After all my issues with taxes were finally resolved yesterday, I at last had some time to relax and think about things with some clarity -- at which point I realized that it was a mere day away from the one-year anniversary of the tragedy at Virginia Tech. It hadn't entirely snuck up on me: I'd seen an article in USA Today a week or so ago that made mention of the upcoming anniversary, so it was always in the back of my mind. I guess it just didn't compute that it's the day after tax day (but then, tax day was never an issue for me like it was this year).
It really hit me during seminar yesterday, when Danielle called from home with the slightest tinge of panic in her voice. I quickly learned that she had banged her car up a little bit and was upset over that, but I harbor my suspicions that her mind wasn't only on her car when she called me.
Last night I had a chance to really sit and reflect, and the more I thought about everything -- about all the thoughts and feelings I'd had that cold April day last year when I literally woke up to the news -- the more unsettled I became. I couldn't sleep last night, first staying up because I couldn't will myself tired, then tossing and turning once I'd resigned myself to my bed.
By the time morning came, I resolved to myself that there was something within me I needed to exorcise today, to make peace with how I felt about all this. Because, for one thing, my most tangible connection to the tragedy is back in New Jersey, probably wishing I could be there to hug and hold on this day -- a feeling I most assuredly held last April 16th. But she had her church, and she went to mass this morning to reflect and pray, which is an admirable and proper thing to do if that's your inclination. It is not, however, mine.
In the end, I decided to use my class as a forum to get some things off my chest. I reserved the end of class this morning to simply address my students face to face, telling them about what it felt like for me to live vicariously through the tragedy, the anxiety I felt while waiting to hear how people I knew were doing and the powerlessness I felt to help anything or console anyone I cared about.
Then I told a story.
I won't repeat that story here, for the sake of space and because I certainly wouldn't want the person whom it concerns to stumble upon this blog and have to relive that experience again. But the truth is, it was thinking about that story that kept me up last night. I put my current malaise into perspective and tried to imagine what it must have been like to have had one's world, one's security so devastatingly rocked. Or what it must be like for the survivors, some of whom were saved by someone who never made it out.
I still can't fathom that. How can you even begin to come to terms with the idea that someone else gave you a second chance at life? Especially at such a young age, an age of blissful ignorance. An age where you go to class like any other day and can't imagine that on that very day you'll come within a hairsbreadth of the beyond. It's a depressing, morbid thought, I know, but I just can't help but think about that, struggling with it, unable to comprehend it. I pray I'll never have to.
For those I know who are in that situation, or who are simply coming to terms with being a survivor of the tragedy, I have both sympathy and the utmost respect for you. The character of the Hokies, both those who have since left Blacksburg and those who stayed without hesitation, is unflappable; they are stoic, loyal, and courageous, and any one of us should be proud to know them and be associated with them.
As for me, technically I'm only a Hokie by association, but there's a lot of strength in the conviction, repeated so often last year, that at these times, we are all Hokies.
Today is the day to remember that sense of community, the combined strength that gets all of through times like those that transpired a year ago. It's a day to, as I entreated my students, remember how lucky we are for the opportunities we have, and to remind ourselves never to take those opportunities for granted because we just never know.
But on top of all that, today is a day to remember. To remember not just the blessings but to remember the thirty-two souls who never imagined when they woke up on April 16, 2007 that it would be their last day. The way we keep them alive is to think of them and to think often, to keep their memories alive.
There's no need to bring any politics or opinions or even emotions into that act either. It's too tempting to use tragedy for particular agendas, and like I told my students, though my views are pretty solid, what those views and their justifications are is just not relevant. What is relevant -- all that is relevant -- is that we remember.
So even though the day is nearly over, I encourage you, if you haven't already, to simply take a moment and think about The Thirty-Two. Think about them and think about all the survivors and all the people affected and think about all those things you don't normally take the time to think about. When it comes down to it, those are the only things that matter, and it's a shame we need moments like these to put that in perspective.
Stay strong, Tech. Hokie, Hokie, Hokie, Hi!
After all my issues with taxes were finally resolved yesterday, I at last had some time to relax and think about things with some clarity -- at which point I realized that it was a mere day away from the one-year anniversary of the tragedy at Virginia Tech. It hadn't entirely snuck up on me: I'd seen an article in USA Today a week or so ago that made mention of the upcoming anniversary, so it was always in the back of my mind. I guess it just didn't compute that it's the day after tax day (but then, tax day was never an issue for me like it was this year).
It really hit me during seminar yesterday, when Danielle called from home with the slightest tinge of panic in her voice. I quickly learned that she had banged her car up a little bit and was upset over that, but I harbor my suspicions that her mind wasn't only on her car when she called me.
Last night I had a chance to really sit and reflect, and the more I thought about everything -- about all the thoughts and feelings I'd had that cold April day last year when I literally woke up to the news -- the more unsettled I became. I couldn't sleep last night, first staying up because I couldn't will myself tired, then tossing and turning once I'd resigned myself to my bed.
By the time morning came, I resolved to myself that there was something within me I needed to exorcise today, to make peace with how I felt about all this. Because, for one thing, my most tangible connection to the tragedy is back in New Jersey, probably wishing I could be there to hug and hold on this day -- a feeling I most assuredly held last April 16th. But she had her church, and she went to mass this morning to reflect and pray, which is an admirable and proper thing to do if that's your inclination. It is not, however, mine.
In the end, I decided to use my class as a forum to get some things off my chest. I reserved the end of class this morning to simply address my students face to face, telling them about what it felt like for me to live vicariously through the tragedy, the anxiety I felt while waiting to hear how people I knew were doing and the powerlessness I felt to help anything or console anyone I cared about.
Then I told a story.
I won't repeat that story here, for the sake of space and because I certainly wouldn't want the person whom it concerns to stumble upon this blog and have to relive that experience again. But the truth is, it was thinking about that story that kept me up last night. I put my current malaise into perspective and tried to imagine what it must have been like to have had one's world, one's security so devastatingly rocked. Or what it must be like for the survivors, some of whom were saved by someone who never made it out.
I still can't fathom that. How can you even begin to come to terms with the idea that someone else gave you a second chance at life? Especially at such a young age, an age of blissful ignorance. An age where you go to class like any other day and can't imagine that on that very day you'll come within a hairsbreadth of the beyond. It's a depressing, morbid thought, I know, but I just can't help but think about that, struggling with it, unable to comprehend it. I pray I'll never have to.
For those I know who are in that situation, or who are simply coming to terms with being a survivor of the tragedy, I have both sympathy and the utmost respect for you. The character of the Hokies, both those who have since left Blacksburg and those who stayed without hesitation, is unflappable; they are stoic, loyal, and courageous, and any one of us should be proud to know them and be associated with them.
As for me, technically I'm only a Hokie by association, but there's a lot of strength in the conviction, repeated so often last year, that at these times, we are all Hokies.
Today is the day to remember that sense of community, the combined strength that gets all of through times like those that transpired a year ago. It's a day to, as I entreated my students, remember how lucky we are for the opportunities we have, and to remind ourselves never to take those opportunities for granted because we just never know.
But on top of all that, today is a day to remember. To remember not just the blessings but to remember the thirty-two souls who never imagined when they woke up on April 16, 2007 that it would be their last day. The way we keep them alive is to think of them and to think often, to keep their memories alive.
There's no need to bring any politics or opinions or even emotions into that act either. It's too tempting to use tragedy for particular agendas, and like I told my students, though my views are pretty solid, what those views and their justifications are is just not relevant. What is relevant -- all that is relevant -- is that we remember.
So even though the day is nearly over, I encourage you, if you haven't already, to simply take a moment and think about The Thirty-Two. Think about them and think about all the survivors and all the people affected and think about all those things you don't normally take the time to think about. When it comes down to it, those are the only things that matter, and it's a shame we need moments like these to put that in perspective.
Stay strong, Tech. Hokie, Hokie, Hokie, Hi!
posted by Dave at 4/16/2008 09:19:00 PM
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